The Bow
by Rose7
Summary: They all looked the same to him. Two wooden limbs, joined in the middle, tied together on either end. A bow was a bow to him- except that this one was not. This bow was for Hawke. Female Hawke/Fenris oneshot.


Fenris had to admit he was out of his depth.

They all looked the same to him. Two wooden limbs, joined in the middle, tied together on either end. They all had their own weight when he lifted them, their own twang when he plucked the strings. A bow was a bow to him- except that this one was not. This bow was for Marian. Hawke.

It had become a concentrated effort to stop using her first name. He had rarely called her Marian in public, of course- none of them did. But in private, it had been different. In his head, it had been different. His dreams were the only place he could not change that now.

But as easily as he could conjure her there-smooth skin, raven-colored hair, a ready laugh-a bow was not part of what he saw. None of the bows he'd found, anyway. If this was to be more than a fool's errand, he would need help, from someone who knew what to look for.

And though he had only mentioned the idea to Varric, the dwarf was not alone when he came to meet Fenris at the marketplace in Lowtown. Aveline, Isabela, Merrill, Sebastian, and Anders had come with him.

Aveline greeted him first, inclining her head. "Fenris."

"We hear you're buying a bow," Merrill added brightly.

"Had I known I required so much assistance, I might have given up earlier," Fenris replied, glancing sideways at Varric.

"No, no, no-" The dwarf waved him off. "I just know what a good bow costs. Thought you might need a few extra coins."

Fenris looked at them one by one. They all stared back at him, expressions ranging from innocent to not-so-innocent. The mage looked particularly suspect.

It did not bode well. But there were only thirty gold pieces in his pocket. What other choice did he have?

"If you're all willing," he finally said.

Varric clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. Let's get started."

They spread out across the Lowtown marketplace, examining the wares. There were longbows, shortbows, crossbows, and arrows dipped in an array of questionable substances. Hawke had visited often when her family lived here. Fenris could only hope she didn't get the urge to visit again today.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Isabela asked.

"A bow that Hawke would like," Merrill replied, lifting one by the string and watching it rock back and forth.

As if it were that simple. The blood magic must have been eating away at her brain again.

"I'm thinking something smooth," Varric added, spreading his hands as if to craft it from thin air. "Sleek. Nicely formed. Like the lady herself."

"Strength and accuracy wouldn't hurt either," Sebastian said, lifting a bow and pretending to aim.

As if Hawke didn't already have both in spades. What she needed was a bow that wasn't split up the middle, reinforced with knots of shredded fabric. But one couldn't expect the exiled prince of Starkhaven to be that logical.

"I still say a month at the _Blooming Rose _would be a better present," Isabela murmured, lifting an axe between thumb and forefinger and then letting it drop again.

Varric chuckled. "I still say you'd be wasting your coin."

"She's a woman, isn't she? Same as any other."

"We don't all visit brothels," Aveline murmured, lifting a longsword to examine it.

The pirate wench rolled her eyes. "Of course _you_ don't. You have a husband. Last I checked, Hawke slept alone."

His hands paused at that. It wasn't as if he had...but he'd never expected her to...did it matter if she'd-

Fenris forced himself to concentrate on the birch shortbow before him.

"You make a habit of looking in on her at night, then?" he asked, handing the weapon back to the merchant.

"I make a habit of looking in on all my friends," Isabela replied, staring at him. "And of telling them when they're acting like right rutting fools-"

"What about this one?" Merrill interrupted, holding a bow out to Fenris. "It's pretty, I think."

As if she wasn't already pretty enough. Did none of them understand?

Fenris shook his head and moved on to the next merchant's stall.

"You're awfully particular about a weapon you won't be using," Aveline said, following him.

"That's because he understands," Varric insisted, reaching back to pat Bianca. "A bow's not just a piece of steel you're flinging around. It's part of you. An extension of your body. And if you find the right one, you take care of her. Cradle her in your arms, hold her close to your heart, make sure to keep her nice and oiled-"

"He's not stroking it again, is he?" Anders asked no one in particular.

Fenris snuck a quick glance. He was.

"Do you think Hawke names her bow?" Merrill asked, glancing up from one of the merchant's staffs.

"If she does, I know what she calls it," Isabela said. She pulled a longbow from the stall, standing it up on its end next to Fenris.

The bow was tall, dark, and undeniably elven. It looked rigid and imposing. The sight of it immediately annoyed him.

"She calls it her bow," he replied, looking back at the stall again.

The pirate wench laughed, resting her chin on the bow's end. "Does she? I didn't know she'd seen it enough to give it a name."

Fenris reached out and pushed the bow away. Isabela stumbled a little, still laughing.

"Maybe we should just take the bow she has to a smithy," Aveline offered. "Let them repair it."

Varric scoffed. "That bow's no better than kindling now. You saw what the Arishok did to it." He gestured behind him. "And we all love Hawke, but she's no Isabela with those blades."

Isabela sighed ruefully, tossing the bow she'd been holding back towards the unprepared merchant. "Few women are."

"Perhaps it should go to the city," Sebastian said. "Surely the bow that killed the Arishok deserves a place of honor here."

"The bow did not kill the Arishok," Fenris interrupted sharply. "Hawke did."

For a moment, they fell into an almost reverent silence. Remembering the duel between the leader of the Qun and their own leader-of-sorts. The duel that had saved a city. The duel that had seemed impossible. The duel Fenris has volunteered her for.

At the time, it had seemed the right thing to do. She had wanted to end the fighting without more bloodshed. The Arishok was unreceptive. Although in those days it had been difficult to even look her in the eye, Fenris had done his best to help.

Moments later, watching her desperate attempts to dodge the Arishok's advance, it no longer seemed so right. There was precious little high ground in the Viscount's throne room, and much of it was destructible. Balconies, railings, even the furniture she had taken cover behind were all gone in a matter of minutes.

When she had run low on arrows, a duel had begun to seem like a very bad idea indeed. The Qunari blade came rushing down to meet her, and she had little option other than to block the weapon with her own. The bow held its form, but the sickening crunch of steel meeting wood had echoed throughout the chamber.

When the Arishok backhanded her, knocking the bow out of her hands and sending her spinning across the floor, Fenris and the others had reached for their own weapons. Better to die for their interference than to stand here, watching, when the Qunari blade sunk into flesh.

But they had underestimated her. Even the barest scratch of a dagger across the chest could buy a few seconds. Even an Arishok could become disoriented when enveloped in blinding, acrid smoke. Even a broken bow, when held together tightly enough, could fire the final, fatal shot. When the smoke cleared, only Hawke had been left standing; face flushed, eyes wide, blood where her clenched fist met split wood.

Varric broke the silence, sighing and shaking his head. "Maker, I wish I'd laid some coin on that fight."

They left Lowtown and moved into Hightown, where there was far more selection, but the prices were significantly higher. Not for the first time, Fenris wished Danarius had left more behind. He had already sold everything of value in the mansion- everything he hadn't kept for himself, that was.

Some days he wondered why he kept any of it. Why he stayed there, alone, at all.

"Does Hawke know you're buying this bow?" Anders asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"No." If she knew, did the mage really think she wouldn't be here? If so, he was even more of a fool than Fenris had thought.

"Wouldn't it be better to let her choose her own weapon?"

"Perhaps." It was as if he'd heard Fenris' thoughts and wanted to prove them right.

Varric snorted. "Better, maybe. More fun? Not by a long shot."

Anders shrugged."It's just that I don't recall you buying Aveline a new shield, or Isabela a new tunic, or Merrill a new staff when they were in need."

"He didn't sleep with any of us, love," Isabela reminded him.

"Or leave you-"

"Fenris," Varric interrupted. "Look at this one."

It was a longbow. The wood was smooth, dark, well-worn. The center was reinforced with Kirkwall steel.

"Heartwood," the dwarf murmured. "The string's been treated with beeswax. The price isn't bad."

Despite the beeswax, the string thrummed when his finger brushed it. The curve of the wood was almost sensual, like the outline of a woman's figure. A very specific woman's figure.

Was this to be his punishment, for leaving? To see her, everywhere? Weren't the constant dreams of silky skin and tangled limbs and his name on her lips enough?

Fenris abruptly handed the bow back to the merchant. "Maybe it's best I finish this alone."

Varric sighed. "Fenris-"

"We don't seem to be much help," Aveline murmured, giving Anders a pointed look.

Isabela shrugged. "Suit yourself. Maybe I'll go drop a few coin to the madam at the _Blooming Rose _myself, then." Her eyebrows lifted mockingly at him. "But I'll make sure to tell Hawke it's in your name."

Yes, finishing alone (or abandoning the task altogether) seemed a wise idea. "I'm certain she'll believe you."

"Why shouldn't she?"

It was Anders who said it. They all looked back at him.

The mage shrugged again. "I mean, it wouldn't exactly be out of character for you, would it?"

There was a defiant look to the man's eyes that usually meant trouble. It didn't stop Fenris from closing the distance between the man and himself. "The apostate presumes to lecture me on character?"

Anders scoffed. "That's all it ever comes down to for you, isn't it? Magic or no magic." He pointed. "You do realize that's magic under your skin, right?"

"And there's a demon under yours. What of it?"

The mage made an aggravated noise, running his hands over his face and back through his hair as if he meant to tear it out. "You're so bloody single-minded! It's exhausting just talking to you." He gestured towards the Hawke estate. "I can't even begin to imagine how she-"

"Gentlemen," Varric lifted his hands, stepping between them. "Perhaps it was my mistake to involve so many in such an intimate purchase. I think I'll take a moment to convene with my esteemed colleague on what we've seen so far." He kicked Fenris' foot. "Now."

Fenris lowered his hand from where it had been poised over the hilt of his sword. He turned and followed Varric until the dwarf stopped in an archway, a few feet out of sight.

"I hope this has something to do with buying a bow," he muttered.

Varric scoffed. "You know it doesn't. Frankly, I don't think you're all that interested in buying one either."

"I certainly didn't come here to duel with the mage." Although at this point, he might have welcomed the chance.

"I'm sorry I invited him, all right?" The dwarf glanced back towards where the others were standing. "He's been acting...strange lately. I didn't want him to feel left out."

Fenris nodded seriously. "It's important that abominations feel included."

Varric made a noise oddly similar to the one Anders had made a few moments earlier. "Look, why don't I help you with what I came to help you with?"

"Which is?"

The dwarf narrowed his eyes. "It's me, Fenris. You want her back, don't you?"

More of his memories came back every day. Few of them were pleasant. Everything in his life worth remembering seemed to have come after the branding, not before. Standing over his master's dead body. Claiming a Hightown mansion as his own. A dance at the _Hanged Man. _

Everything in his life worth remembering seemed to include her. It seemed ludicrous now that he had given her up for anything, much less painful memories of a past that meant nothing to him. Perhaps Varric would appreciate the irony of it all some day.

"What's done is done," Fenris finally said.

"Yes," the dwarf agreed. "And it was done _years _ago. Some women can hold grudges that long, but I don't think Hawke is one of them."

"Perhaps she isn't the one with the grudge."

Varric snorted. "If you think this is the worst mistake you can make with a woman, do I have some stories for you."

Fenris lifted his head, watching the dwarf expectantly.

"None that I want to tell right now," Varric added hastily. "My point is, you haven't done anything that can't be repaired."

"Hawke isn't a broken bow, Varric."

"No, but that's where it starts," the dwarf insisted. "She'll like that heartwood one. She'd like a tree limb, if you were the one delivering it."

"I think you overestimate my charms."

"Not as much as you underestimate them," Varric retorted. He cocked his head back towards the marketplace. "You think Blondie over there would be picking a fight with you otherwise?"

It was difficult to say what the mage's motives were. If he'd wanted Hawke, he'd had years to try and win her. Perhaps he'd already tried. Perhaps he'd already won. They weren't questions Fenris wanted answered.

"I hurt her." It felt oddly cathartic to admit it out loud. "I...don't want to do that again."

Varric laughed. "Hate to break it to you, friend, but you will. And she'll hurt you. That's life, whether you're a mage or a dwarf or a lyrium-branded elf."

It couldn't be that simple, could it? A present of a new bow didn't seem adequate, no matter how much she needed it. He wouldn't have found it so, were he and the mage in the other's place.

But the bow wasn't for him or Anders. It was for Marian. Hawke.

"She deserves the bow," Fenris finally said. "The mage can say what he likes."

"I'm sure he will," the dwarf muttered. "Sorest loser I've ever seen."

They returned to the marketplace, where the others were still waiting. With their coin pooled-and Varric calling on some debts long-owed-there was just enough to purchase the heartwood bow. Though nowhere near the weight of the weapon on his back, it had a solidity to it that felt right in Fenris' hands.

"To Hawke's, then?" he murmured, glancing back at the others.

"Afraid not," Varric said, sighing theatrically. "I've got a engagement back at the _Hanged Man. _Old friend from Orzimmar- wouldn't want to miss him." He nudged Isabela with his elbow. "Maybe you'd like to meet him too?"

The pirate wench rolled her eyes. "Why not? Here's hoping he's a better storyteller than you are."

Varric chuckled, nudging her towards the staircase to Lowtown. "Not much chance of that."

Fenris frowned as they began to walk away. "Varric-"

"Wicked Grace tomorrow! Let us know how it goes!" the dwarf called back over his shoulder before they both rounded the corner and disappeared.

After a moment, Aveline cleared her throat.

"I'm afraid duty calls, gentlemen," she said, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Even the captain has to take a patrol now and then."

"Funny. I'm having a hard time recalling the then," Fenris replied, staring back at her.

The woman smiled. "Give Hawke my regards, will you?" She turned and walked off, headed for the Viscount's Way.

Sebastian was already buttoning his collar when Fenris looked at him.

"Vespers." He cocked his head back toward the chantry. "I wouldn't want to be late."

As if on cue, the bells for the evening service began to ring. At least the man had an actual excuse. He even gave each of them a nod before leaving.

Merrill, on the other hand, hadn't moved. Her eyes darted back and forth between Fenris and Anders.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I think I hear someone calling my name."

She turned and practically ran in the direction of Lowtown. That left Fenris standing alone with the mage.

"Patients," he suggested. "Or blood rituals, perhaps."

Anders rolled his eyes. "I'd need your blood to perform them. As it is, I have no other plans." He gestured towards the Hawke estate. "After you."

Fenris was certain he hoped to be.

It didn't take long to reach her front door. Bodahn had already lit the torches outside. It had been about dusk then too- the night Fenris had sat on the other side of that door, waiting for her.

Perhaps it was only just that his best memory was also his most incomplete. The beat of his heart against his chest when he'd asked if she wanted him to leave. The flicker of candlelight on her face when she'd told him to stay. Pinning her against the stone with a kiss.

"Well?"

It was the mage interrupting his thoughts again. He stared at Fenris, arms folded over his chest, shifting his weight impatiently as if he could have crossed that threshold a dozen times by now. Maybe he had.

How could he give her up to this...demon? But how could he make any claim on her now, after what he had done? She deserved better than a broken bow. She also deserved better than a broken man. Even if it tore that man's heart out to admit it.

"Aveline warned me-" The words caught in his throat. Fenris cleared it.

"Aveline warned me earlier to stay off the streets at night," he told Anders. "Danarius had many friends in the Imperium. No doubt they've heard of his death by now."

The mage seemed to be fighting a smile. "If you're afraid of the dark, Fenris-"

"I am not afraid." Let the slave hunters come. Maybe there were some near the _Blooming Rose, _looking for a fight_. _At this point, he would welcome that too.

"Hawke will want to test the bow," he forced himself to say. "Hear where it came from. It's late enough as it is." He held it out to Anders. "Take it."

The mage immediately reached out for the bow. Fenris let it slip from his fingers. The wood had warmed to his touch. Now his hand closed on cold, empty air.

It was done now. It was his turn to leave it be.

"Wait."

When he looked back, Anders hadn't moved. He was staring up at one of the estate's windows, as if watching for something. Or someone. Didn't he know those windows overlooked the main hall? The ones near her bedroom would have been on the other side of the house, overlooking the neighboring courtyard and her less-than-shameless neighbors.

Maybe he didn't. That was something, at least.

"This gift was your idea," the mage finally said, looking at him. "And mostly your gold. You should be the one to give it." He thrust the bow towards Fenris.

Fenris stared back for a moment, and then reached out and took it. He stepped past the mage, reaching for the iron knocker on the front door.

"Fenris."

Anders was still standing there, watching the window. After a moment, his gaze flickered back to Fenris.

"You're a lucky man," he said quietly. "Don't let it go to waste."

He turned and walked away, into the darkness of Kirkwall. Fenris watched until he had disappeared.


End file.
